


“That’s the problem with Napkin Man. He just doesn’t--”

by ashrub4235



Category: Nightwing (Comics)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-02-07 13:11:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashrub4235/pseuds/ashrub4235
Summary: The Ric Grayson arc is hurting my soul so I'm rewriting it. Enjoy!





	1. You Need as Much Help as You Can Get

**Author's Note:**

> Who knew researching traumatic brain injuries would be so fun? It's a little shorter than intended but that just means I'll have chapter two out sooner.

It wasn’t like in a movie. There was no loud gunshot. No valiant effort to save the man's life. No obvious threat. Not until the bullet had silently whizzed through the air and sliced through the skull of a black and blue clad man, Nightwing, Dick Grayson. If it had been a movie, Bruce would have seen it coming. The shooter would have shuffled his boots or clanked his gun just loud enough that the greatest detective would’ve had time to react. But this wasn’t a movie. This was real life. There was no epic score playing in the background. No dramatic build to the gruesome event. Just the absence of chatter--and then blood. So much blood spilling from the young man’s head as he fell into the caped crusaders arms.

Bruce didn’t have time to react, but Batman did. The masked vigilante consumed the billionaire father and locked him deep within. Nightwing had just been shot. Blood matted his hair to his head and created a huge pool on the concrete roof. He needed to slow the bleeding until help arrived because even Batman can’t fix a bullet to the brain. Refusing to look at his son’s face, Batman pressed gauze against the wound. It was deep.

“This is Gordon! Get a damn medical team to the roof!” The commissioner barked his orders into the walkie talkie. “Now! And I want the cops in the--” Batman tuned out the noise.

A minute crawled by as more blood seeped onto Bruce’s gloves, making the matte black material shine in the moonlight. “Nightwing.” He tried but there was no response. “Nightwing.” He spoke again with more force but still--nothing. “Nightwing stay with me.” He used his free hand to check his pulse, it was there, then his breath, it was faint and irregular but he was breathing. “Where are they?” Bruce’s voice was steady and low as he spoke to Gordon because it wasn’t Bruce’s. It was Batman’s. Right now all he needed was to slow the bleeding and get him to a professional.

Blaring in the distance, sirens raced towards the scene. A heavy wind blew the hair on Nightwing’s head that wasn’t saturated with blood into his eyes that were only open to slits. A helicopter was descending on the roof.

Gordon yelled over all the noise, placing a hand on Batman’s shoulder. “I’ll make arrangements for your privacy. Just focus on him.” Before he finished speaking a small team rushed past him, settling Nightwing onto a stretcher. Bruce stood and watched as they carried Nightwing onto the helicopter, a limp hand falling from the stretcher before someone placed it back at his side.

~~~

Bruce had traded in the cape and cowl for reading glasses and a turtleneck, finally allowing himself to be attached to life. Now, he could worry about his son. He stood, watching through the window as they dug a bullet out of Dick’s brain. Slowly others joined him at the window. First it was Alfred and Damian. Then Barbara. Then Jason and Tim. Unable to rip their eyes from the scene, they watched every time the monitor dipped, every time the doctors scrambled to stabilize him, and every time the beeping got out of control.

“We’re losing him!” One of them yelled as the monitor screamed. It seemed they all switched positions, grab some new tools, and were back to prodding his brain. Then the beeping halted. It went on like this for hours.

~~~

It was over. The nail biting could slow, not halt but slow. A doctor walked into the waiting room where the family sat, in silence.  
“He’s stable.” They waited hours to hear those two words. “We won’t know the full effect of the bullet until after he wakes up and we observe him for days, but he is alive and that in itself is a miracle. We are expecting him to wake up in the next few weeks. As of right now he is considered to be in a coma. He lost a considerable amount of blood and his body has been through a lot. You will be allowed into his room until he wakes up. This is very serious and although he is stable now there are still a lot of unknowns. We are doing everything in our power to help your son, Mr.Wayne.”

Bruce nodded with sloth. “I understand. Thank you.” And with that the doctor left the the family in silence, again. Pennyworth was the first to break it.

“Will you be staying here tonight?” Alfred’s asked, turning to Bruce.

“No.” Bruce’s voice was rough. “Whoever did this is very good. If I don’t find him now, he will disappear.” He turned to look the butler in his eyes. They were filled with rage.

Alfred gave a controlled nodded, as if he was holding back the urge to scream and punch a wall. “Find the bastard.” He said, his fist shaking at his side.

They locked eyes for a moment, trading all of the information they needed in the one glance. Bruce stood, straightened his pants, and walked out the door.

“Bu-” Damian began to protest but Tim laid and hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t argue. Not today.” Alfred stood and made his way to Dick’s hospital room.

~~~

The next few weeks were hell. Bruce was off hunting the killer while the rest of the family stayed with Dick’s unresponsive body. Mostly, they liked to be alone with him so they could “talk”. At first it felt silly but it quickly became normal with each passing “shift” as they called it. There was always someone in the room with him, give or take the few minutes someone was in the bathroom or at the vending machine.

The heart monitor beeped at a steady rhythm. He knew that the consistent beat should be comforting but he wished he could silence it. Jason sigh and rested his elbows on his knees, hunched over in the chair. Falling and rising, Dicks chest held most of his attention, but the silence was killing him. After fifteen minutes of sitting in a room with comatose Dick Grayson, Jason had to break the silence. It just felt wrong to be in the same room with Dick and there be no chatting.

“This is stupid.” He began. “But I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do for the next few hours. I promised everyone I’d take this shift, watch over you.” He groaned, pulling his hands down his face, and fell back into the chair. “I don’t know why there always has to be someone in here with you. The hospital can just tell us when you’re awake.” He allowed a beat of silence as he studied Dick’s face. “But they want to make sure that someone is here when you wake up. You probably won’t wake up for a couple more weeks though.” He paused. “They said the sooner you wake up, the better your chances are at recovery.” Another pause. “You hear that man? Wake up now and you won’t need someone to clean up your drool for the rest of your life.”

Silence fell on the room again as he took a deep breath and watched Dick’s face. “Some people think that you can hear whats going on when you’re in a coma. I don’t know if I believe it. But I bet you hate sitting in silence more than I do, even right now.” Silence. “Look, I know you and I aren’t the closest. Or the second closest. Or even the third closest in the family, but I don’t want you dead or anything. I mean…” he looked around to see if anyone else was there. “I kind of looked up to you when I was younger. Maybe I still do. How could I not though? You were Dick Grayson, the golden boy. I guess in some ways, even if we weren’t all that close, you were like a brother. A weird slightly estranged brother that was usually angry when he was home but still a brother. We’ve never had a great relationship. I like to think it’s all situational, just a lot of bad timing. Maybe when you get out of this, uh, we could fix that?”

Again he let the words hang in the air. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the being able to hear while in a coma theory to be true or not anymore, but it didn’t matter. He’d already said it out loud. “I know we don’t have a great relationship now either. And that’s probably my fault. Just do me a favor though, okay? Wake up and wake up like you again." Silence. "I don’t know too much about this serious medical stuff. I can give myself stitches and I know when to call for help. But a coma? Not really my area of expertise. But sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s the doctors damn area of expertise. They keep telling us how little we know and what might happen. They can’t tell us a damn thing.” His hand balled into a fist but it quickly unclenched.

“I don’t have it in me to be angry.” This time silence dragged for a long time but was broken suddenly by a smile and the first half of a laugh. “Huh. I know crazy, right? Me not getting angry? I’m always angry.” His smile faded. “No, I’m not mad. I’m terrified and miserable. I- I don’t have the energy to be mad anymore.”He chuckled with tears welling in his eyes. “Damn it, man. Wake up. Wake up so I can be angry at this God forsaken planet again. So I can stop feel this huge void in my chest.” His tone intensified. “Fuck. You’re supposed to be the one that’s all put together. I looked up to you. I still do, but it’s really hard to look up to someone who might have to wear diapers for the rest of his life.” The tears began spilling down his cheeks. “Just wake up and go back to being Dick, okay? Be the golden boy. Make me look bad every time you sneeze. I don’t care anymore. I just want you out of this hospital bed.”

Attempting to calm himself down he was silent for nearly a minute, but to no avail. “What if you’re paralyzed? What if you can’t walk again? Or talk? What if you wake up a whole different person or forget everything? Damn it! What if you never wake up? You stay a vegetable your whole life? I can’t- I don’t want that. You don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve any of this!” He rubbed his face with his hands and stood. “I’m sorry.” The words barely made it out of his mouth before he stepped into the hallway, calling Wally to take over for him.

Wally arrived in minutes, just enough time for Jason to put himself together, at least a little bit. When Jason turned to meet Wally, Wally could already tell what was happening. He had heard it over the phone, but now he was looking at it. He could see Jason’s puffy, red eyes, shining with the remaining emotion. Jason cleared his throat.  
“Thanks man. I, uh, I guess I wasn’t as up to it as I thought I’d be.” He found it difficult to look Wally in the eyes, but Wally offered him a gentle smile and hand on the shoulder.  
“No worries, Jay. Go take a rest or something. I heard Alfred’s been brewing a lot of tea lately.”

“Eh… I don’t really feel like being at the manner. Maybe another time.” He turned to leave and without looking back called “thanks” again.

Wally waved as he walked down the hallway and then slipped into Dick’s room. He sat in the chair and smiled at Dick. “Looks like it’s just you and me, pal. It’s been a minute since we talked. I know we should hang out more, I mean I am me so I can go anywhere pretty much anytime. But we say that every time we meet up. We go weeks without seeing each other and then promise we’ll meet again soon but the cycle continues. I get it thought. I mean we’re both pretty busy now. Although sometime I swear I don’t see you doing anything but the whole night time gig.” Wally laughed. “I feel like I need to force you to be a normal guy in his mid twenties. When you wake up remind me to ask you how long it’s been since you had a drink. It better not be the last time he hung out.”

The smile slipped of his face as the memories of their last hang out flooded back. He missed seeing Dick smile and hearing him laugh. Shaking his head, he put the smile back on his face. “I guess you can’t really get me caught up on your life, but I can get you caught up on mine.” and then he talked and talked and talked for hours. Wally spared no detail as the minutes ticked by. Eventually he paused. “Man it’s really gonna suck when you wake up and I have to tell you all that again.” silence “but you waking up is worth it… Jeez being around you has never been so depressing. I guess that’s ‘cause you’re usually chatting away.” He yawned. “I think Damian’s next. He’ll be here soon, probably early.” Wally stood over Dick, scanning his face. “You better wake up. If not for me, for the kid. He needs you man. We all need you.”  
He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “I know you wouldn’t want me sad right now. You’d want me celebrating. And I know you’d kill me if I didn’t pass that on to the kid. No tears today, pal.” He looked over his shoulder to see Damian making his way down the hall. Wally looked back at Dick. “The next time I see you, you better be awake.” He gave Dicks hand a squeeze. He wasn’t sure why--it just felt right.

When he turned around Damian was already standing in the room, sketch pad in hand. “Evening, little D.” He offered a friendly smile to the young teen.

Damian didn’t offer him a smile, only narrowed eyes and a huff. “You can leave now, West. Your shift is done and I am here to take over.”

Wally nodded. He wanted to ruffle Damian’s hair but decided against it. He liked his fingers where they were. “Well if you need anything, just call.”

Damian nodded in response. “I won’t be requiring your assistance but thank you. Good bye.” He stood, hands clasped together at the spine of his sketch pad, where it rested against his upper thigh. Such a proper stance for a kid his age.

“Bye” Wally waved and walked out the door, stealing one more glance at Damian standing almost protectively in front of his brother. When Wally was gone, Damian drew the curtains and closed the door. He liked his privacy when watching over Dick.

Damian began by sitting in a chair on his knees, pulled close to the bed, and drawing. He sketched out an impressively realistic portrait of comatose Dick, but eventually his hand began to cramp and even his calloused fingers couldn’t draw anymore. So Damian pushed the chair back in place and looked around him. He wasn’t sure why. The door was closed and he knew no one was around. When he had confirmed that fact, he walked over to the side of the bed with the most open space and climb in. It felt strange, like he shouldn’t be doing it, but he didn’t care. Curling up in his side, Damian rested his head on Dick’s chest. He listened to his brothers heartbeat for a few minutes before saying anything.

“I read that sometimes physical comfort can aid in the healing process.” He shifted under the blanket. “And you need as much help as you can get.” He listened to the heartbeat for a little while longer. As his mind wandered down the theoretically paths of what if, he held Dick a little tighter. He didn’t like thinking about what the future could hold, other than a successful recovery. And as these thoughts traveled through his brain, they made it to his eyes. Wet drops appeared on Dick’s hospital gown but they stopped falling soon after because Damian drifted off to sleep.


	2. My Brain Feels Like Goulash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traumatic brain injury continues to take its toll on the bat family as Dick lies in a coma until finally his eyes open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wasn't satisfied with how short the last chapter was but it was unavoidable due to me being a dumbass at editing. So I finished up this bit as soon as I could. The next one will for sure take longer to post. Enjoy!

Sunlight dripped through the closed curtains as the sun slowly lifted above the horizon. Right at sunrise Alfred walked into the room. At first he was worried, not seeing Damian asleep in a chair, but then he noticed a few extra lumps in the bed and bits of black hair stick out of Dick’s side. The butler smiled and sat down in the chair, setting the book  _ Robin Hood  _ and a carrier with three steaming teas next to him. He picked one up and sipped on it, enjoying for a moment the serenity of the scene. It wasn’t too long before Damian groggily lifted his head. 

“Pennyworth?” He squinted through the still dark room, as Alfred had decided not to open the curtains.

“Morning Master Damian I’ve brought you a tea if you want it.”

Damian yawned and rubbed the back of his neck. Before slipping out of bed he studied Dick and then the monitor. When he was satisfied with what he saw he walked over to Alfred and grabbed a tea of his own.

“Who is the third one for?” He asked seeing the tab of Dick’s favorite tea bag peeking out of the cup.

“Just in case.” Alfred said simply but then felt the need to elaborate. “It’s silly. I’ll probably drink it myself, cold, but just in case.”

Damian nodded. Everyone had their ways of hanging onto hope that Dick would wake up during their shift. They all had sentimental chats and object they brought to try and cling to life before Dick’s brain injury. No one questioned what the others held onto. 

“Master Tim is in the cafe if you want to leave with him. It might be good to get away from here for a few hours.” Alfred suggested but Damian could see the butler wanted alone time just like everybody else. It was more than a suggestion. It was a sort of plea, asking for help without truly asking, but Damian understood. 

“Thank you, Pennyworth. I’ll meet Drake in the cafe.” He walked for the door but before leaving stopped. “You’ll notify me if anything changes?”

“Of course.” The two nodded and Damian left, leaving Alfred alone.

He smiled for a moment and took a sip of tea before remembering the other object he brought. “I know you’re too old to have me reading stories to you, but I thought we could make an exception this morning.” Alfred pulled  _ Robin Hood _ out and opened it to the first page. He began to read the story with all of the enthusiasm he would use to read to a child. He knew it probably wouldn’t happen but he loved the thought of Dick waking up to his favorite book. He would open his eyes and smile at the familiar sound of Alfred reading a familiar story. He would feel at home, peaceful, and make a miraculous recovery. But Alfred knew that wasn’t realistic. He knew that they were looking at a lifetime of trouble ahead of them. He couldn’t bring himself to imagine that the boy he’d helped raise since the age of nine would have to go through that. He couldn’t bring himself to think of all the unknowns because he knew it would drive him crazy. So, he sat a read stories to Dick, remembering the past rather than worrying about the future

 

~~~

 

When Tim arrived, Alfred was working on his second tea. “Afternoon, Alf.” He offered a comforting smile that wasn’t too big. Alfred put down the book and returned the gesture.

“After noon, Master Tim. Did you have a good day?” 

Tim thought back to the day he’d spent researching traumatic brain injuries and decided to give him a simple answer. “Yeah, it was fine. How’s it been here?”

“Rather uneventful. I guess we can count that as a blessing though.” He offered another smile but this one seemed hollow. Probably because they knew that an uneventful day truly was a blessing right now. If an eventful day did come along it would most likely be bad news. As long as Dick was stable they figured they were doing all right.

“Good. Well, I’m sure you want to go get some fresh air, stretch your legs. Damian has been hanging out with Jason all day, so you shouldn’t have to worry about him. I’m ready to take over though.”

Alfred nodded. “Of course.” He stood. “Some fresh air does sound nice. Maybe I’ll go for a walk.” He smiled at Tim once more and pulled him into a short hug. “If you need anything, I’m always available.” He let go “I believe Barbara volunteered for the next shirt. She should be here later tonight.”

He nodded. “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

“Good bye, Master Tim” He waved as he walked out the door, taking his book with him.

Tim waved in response and then shifted the monitor so he could better see it from the chair. Settling into the seat, he kept his eyes on the monitor. “Man Dick, if you could see how much everyone one was worrying about you right now, it’d send you into a coma.” He didn’t laugh at his own joke. “Too soon, sorry. Well, if you were awake you might find it funny.” Silence dragged on. Tim didn’t realize there could be awkward silence between him and a comatose patient. “Wow, talking to you is harder when you’re not doing all of the talking.” He let his eyes slip from the screen to look at Dick’s face. His heart ached in his chest when he saw it and looked back to the stats. “You seem to be doing alright for now. That’s good.” 

He was silent for a long while, studying each stat on the screen. He couldn’t let his gaze slip from it because the only other place he would look was at Dick. And looking at Dick was painful. He hated seeing him motionless, and emotionless. What felt like hours later he broke the silence again.

“Wasn’t there a movie once where a guy went into a coma but he could like step out of his body? He could hear and see everyone but no one could see him? Well, they could see his body but not his spirit. No one knew he was listening to them, I think. I don’t think I actually watched the movie but I like the concept of it. You better tell me, if you wake up, if you’re listening to me right now.” He paused realizing he just said ‘if you wake up’ and his chest exploded with pain.

Glancing down at Dick’s face, his own contorted in agony. “Come one Dick, you have to wake up. We need- I need you. I don’t… I don’t know how to deal with Damian like you. You always know how to calm him down. Not even Bruce knows him that well. And I need my brother back. Who’s going to push their advice on me when I’m not asking for it? Or pry into my personal life when I don’t want to talk about it? Who am I going to go to for advice when I do need it? I could go to friends but they aren’t you. You always know what to say and how to fix everything, even when I don’t want you to.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Dick please wake up.” He felt the tears prickle at his eyelids. “Please-” Abruptly he stood and walked into the hallways, immediately pulling out his phone. 

“Hey, Barbara… I know you weren’t supposed to come in for a couple hours, but-” He didn’t need to finish. He could hear Barbara already putting on her coat. “Thanks, I owe you.”

 

~~~

 

It didn’t take long for Barbara to arrive. She walked down the hall watching Tim. When she was close enough she spoke to him. “Hey, Tim. How is he?” 

“Same as always” Tim said quietly. “I-I’m sorry, Babs. I didn’t want to make Alfred come back and Wally has already been here so much I-”

“Don’t sweat it, Tim. I don’t mind, really. I was kind of glad you called. It’s hard to focus on anything when I know I’ll be here in a few hours. So really you just saved me a few worthless hours of doing nothing but worry about Dick.”

Tim smiled. “Thanks. I just can’t be in there right now. I’m not... strong enough.”

“It’s hard, I know. And we’re all dealing with this in different ways. If you need some time away, take time away. There are plenty of people willing to wait with Dick right now.” She offered him a smile.

After a beat of silence Tim spoke up. “Have you heard anything from Bruce?”

“He’s close but he hasn’t said too much about it. Go home and get some rest, Tim.” 

He nodded. “Sure thing.” And left without taking a second look inside the room.

Barbara sighed and walked in to see nothing had changed. Dick was still lying motionless in bed. She sat in two chairs, her feet dangling over the side, into another. “Well, Dickie, looks to me like we’ve finally got some alone time.” She picked up a remote. “Not sure if you can enjoy this or not, probably not, but I’ll find something we both like.” And she did. She took her time scrolling through each channel until she found a show she knew he’d enjoy. “Just in case you wake up while I’m here, I want it to be something you don’t hate.” She smiled and turned the volume up a notch, still keeping it low. 

After a few hours of tv she got up and walked over to the window, peaking out. The sun was nearly done setting over the bay. “That’s pretty.” She said to herself. “Well, I think I’m spending the night, Dick, so I’m going to talk to a nurse about getting one of those bed things for the couch over there. I’ll be back though.” She walked out of the room and returned with a nurse holding a large cushion. He laid it over the couch and handed Barbara a pillow and blanket before leaving. 

“See I told you I’d be back.” She said while setting up her sleeping arrangement. “Don’t worry. I’m not sleeping quite yet. I just didn’t want to bother the nurses late at night.” Sitting back in the chair, she watched Dick’s face. “How similar have everyone's conversations been? I heard Damian fell asleep in bed with you. I bet when you wake up, you’re going to be jealous of yourself somehow. Jealous of your unconscious self for getting to cuddle with Damian.” She reached forward and lightly grabbed his hand, thumbing the back of it. Then she took a deep breath, promising herself she wouldn’t cry tonight. “How many of us have sworn we won’t cry? And how many of us have broken it?” She sat in silence, occasionally blinking back tears, for the rest of the night. That was until she got tired and went to bed.

 

~~~

 

It was 2:13 am when Alfred opened his eyes. He hadn’t remembered drifting off but he wasn’t entirely surprised by it either. What did surprise him was seeing Dick staring at the ceiling. As Alfred shifted from his slumped position, Dick glanced over.

“Oh, you’re up.” The man laying in the hospital bed said with a neutral tone.

“I should be saying that to you.” A smile spread across Alfred’s face and he stood to be closer to Dick. “You gave us quite a fright, Ma-” Dick cut him off.

“Wait. Where am I? Am I in Britain?”

This sentenced shocked Alfred but only for a moment before he laughed it off with a gentle smile. “Of course not. You’ve been through a lot. You must be very confused.” he spoke cautiously, knowing how little they knew about his condition. “We’re still in Gotham.”

“Gotham?”  Dick’s speech was slow and dragging. 

“Of course, Master Dick. Perhaps you’r-”

“Excuse me?” Dick’s face took on a look of offense. “If you’re going to call me names, get out.” Alfred was silent. “Where’s my doctor? I want to talk to him. What’s going on?” His tone seemed to escalate with frustration, despite its sluggish speed, and Alfred took a step back.

“You don’t know who I am?” Dick’s eye became unfocused, still filled with frustration as he attempted to search his brain for any memory of the British man in front of him. Nothing.

“Should I? I don’t… I- I don’t even know who I am.” This realization shifted the frustration to anger and he glared at the man in front of him. “What the hell is going on? Who are you? Where am I?” He put his head in his hand as it pulsed with pain. “Why does my brain feel like goulash?”

“I’ll get the nurse” Alfred spoke quickly and stepped out of the room. Dick could tell the man was fighting to maintain his professional mannerisms, but couldn’t bother to care. He had bigger problems now. 

As the older man walked out of the room, Dick’s mind began to race. What was going on? Where was he? Who was he? Why couldn’t he remember how he got there or his own damn name. What was his name? The heart monitor next to him beeped faster and faster until suddenly it dropped. His eyes rolled back into his head and the monitor beeped aggressively as his blood pressure and heart rate plummeted. He couldn’t move. His muscles tensed and cramped, locking him in a curled position. 

A nurse swiftly walked into the room with Alfred trailing behind her. Her eyes widened when she saw Dick, saliva oozing out of the corner of his mouth. His elbow jerked back into the pillow repeatedly. Without missing a beat, the nurse walked over and checked his breathing. Thankfully that hadn’t stopped. She gently lifted on of his legs and rolled him to one side, placing pillows on either side of his head. Then she stepped back, allowing him to continue spasming. Eventually his eyes closed and his muscled loosened. The heart monitor stopped screaming and the room fell to peace again. She looked up at the startled butler.

“He’s just had a seizure. This is common in people who have suffered traumatic brain injuries like him, especially after a bullet wound.”

Alfred nodded. “Is this something that’s going to be problem for the rest of his life?”

“I can’t answer that with certainty at this point, but statistically, no. We call these post-traumatic seizures. He has about a 25% chance of having another one. If that happens he may be diagnosed with epilepsy. But like I said, that’s unlikely to happen.”

“So, that was most likely the only one he’ll ever have?”

“Probably. We won’t really know unless it does happen again in the next couple years. I wouldn’t dwell on it too much. Would you be able to get Mr. Wayne in here anytime soon? I believe it’s important for close friends and family to be here in these situations. He’s going to need a lot of support, and I’d like to explain to Mr. Wayne what he might expect from his son.”

Alfred nodded. “I’ll call him.” He glanced at Dick who looked to be waking up again. This was going to be a long process. It wouldn’t be like any other injury they’d seen before. He could already feel the sleepless nights barreling towards him.

 

~~~

 

“Mr. Wayne, I can’t stress enough how important it is you be here for your son.” The doctor had arranged a video call with Bruce who was off hunting down his son’s shooter. Of course they didn’t tell the doctor that. They crafted an at least half believable story for the hospital. “This really is a delicate situation and he’s going to need a lot of support.”

“I know, Doc. Thank you so much. I’ll be in as soon as I can, likely in the next couple of days. Tomorrow if I play my cards right.” 

The doctor nodded. “Well, I think it’s important for you to know what’s going on sooner rather than later. He is currently in the ICU. Like I explained to you before, we don’t know the extent of the damage done by the bullet. The bullet, unfortunately, made it pretty far into his brain. It managed to damage his parietal lobe, temporal lobe, and frontal lobe, as well as his cerebral cortex. It hit just about everything but the occipital lobe, so good news, he can see. I’m not sure what Mr. Pennyworth has told you about your son’s conditions so I apologize if I’m repeating some information.”

“It’s fine, Doctor. Alfred told me it’d be best to hear the full story from you, so I actually know very little.” Bruce was doing his best to be friendly, but he was filling with anger. He wasn’t sure he would get through the conversation without letting something other than “thank you, doctor” slip through his lips--and whatever that ended up being, wouldn’t be pleasant to hear.

The doctor nodded again and continued with his explanation. “So I mentioned three lobes and the cerebral cortex. Each of these portions of his brain control different aspects of him. I’m going to break it down piece by piece and tell you what we may see due to the damage on each part of the brain. The damage done to his temporal lobe is minimal. So, we are not expecting too many problems to rise from that but some of the possible symptoms of damaging that part of the brain includes a disturbance of selective attention, an impairment of organization and categorization of verbal material, a disturbance in language comprehension, impaired long term memory, altered personality, affect behavior, and altered sexual behavior.”

“That’s all for one lobe?” Bruce’s voice was unnervingly steady to the doctor. He could tell there was a great deal of control taking place within the man.

“Yes, that’s all for one lobe. Like I said though, the damage to that lobe is minimal. It is possible he could have none of these symptoms but not likely. I realize that’s a lot to take in. Do you have any questions?” There was a beat of silence.

“Not yet. Please continue.”

“Of course. Let’s talk about the cerebral cortex next. This is the outer layer of the brain. The part that has all of the wrinkles in it. This part determines personality, intelligence, helps with motor function, planning and organization, sensory information, and language processing. A few of these overlap with the temporal lobe functions and you will notice that many functions take place in multiple parts of the brain as we talk through this. Questions?” Bruce shook his head so the doctor continued. “The parietal lobe is where the bullet entered his brain. Damage to this lobe can cause difficulty with mathematics and writing as well as aphasia and agnosia.”

“What are aphasia and agnosia?” Bruce asked

“Aphasia is a language disorder and agnosia is the inability to perceive objects normally. Any other questions?” Bruce shook his head. “Last is the frontal lobe. This lobe took the most damage and we’re expecting much of his problems to come from there. He may experience an inability to distinguish between good and bad choices and recognizing the consequences of those actions may be very difficult for him. Other common side effects of damage to the frontal lobe include memory impairment, change in mood, an inability to regulate behavior, and deficits in executive functions like goal setting, planning, and self-correction. Questions?”

“It sound like there are a lot of unknowns, Doctor.”

“Yes, unfortunately scientists haven’t completely figured out the brain yet.We can make prediction as to what we might see, but there are no guarantees. He might suffer from just a few symptoms. He might suffer from all of them and he might suffer from some I haven’t even mentioned. What I have discussed already are, in my professional opinion, the most likely to happen due to the area’s of the brain affected. Now, he woke up early this morning so we’ve had barely any time to observe him, however, we can already see some of the complication from the injury.” Silence.

“He woke up. Is he okay?” Bruce couldn’t hide the fear in his voice. He wasn’t trying to either.

“He’s not a vegetable if that’s what you’re asking. He is showing signs of higher level thinking which gives us hope for enough recovery he may, eventually, be able to live on his own again. He did have one seizure shortly after waking up, but this is very common with traumatic brain injuries. Mr. Wayne, there is no easy way to say this, but Dick Grayson appears to be suffering from retrograde amnesia.” Bruce waited for him to continue so he did. “He woke up very confused which is normal but that confusion hasn’t lifted. He didn’t know where he was or why. He can’t remember his name. He didn’t know who Mr. Pennyworth was when he woke up and he doesn’t recognize your name. This may change. He’s in the very early stages of recovery but for now, he is a total amnesiac.”

“He doesn’t remember anything?”

“Not so far. Like I said it’s very early so nothing is definite. There are lots of techniques we can use to try and regain those memories but right now we are mainly focused on physical recovery. Your son is going to need extensive physical therapy as well as cognitive therapy. Because his motor cortex was damaged, he is having trouble controlling the muscles in his face, hands, arms and feet. He’ll need to relearn a few basic motor function, reconnect the damaged part of his brain. I’ve said it over and over, but Dick is going to need all of the support he can get.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” silence. “Anything else, Doctor?” 

The doctor looked down at his notes. “I believe I’ve covered everything I needed to speak to you about. Dick will probably remain in the ICU for at least a few more days. When you do get back into town we’ll have much more to discuss because as of right now you are the sole caretaker of this man. We believe he is not currently in a state to make decisions for himself so final decision will be up to you until he is deemed capable. Unless you have anymore questions that’s all for now. And I assure you, we are doing everything we can to help him. I hope to see you soon.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I will be there as soon as possible.” Bruce ended the call. As soon as the screen went black his fist met the table with a bang. “Damn it!” 

 

~~~

 

Someone was humming as Dick opened his eyes. Who the hell would be humming? He looked over to see a red headed woman sitting in the chair next to his bed, one earbud dangling while the other sat firmly in her right ear. As soon as she noticed Dick’s consciousness she ripped the music from her ears and smiled, scooting to the edge of her seat.

“Afternoon, Grayson.”

Dick groaned and sloppily rolled to one side. Did he know that was rude? Sure. Did he care? Not really. The woman got up and stood next to his bed. Her tone was strong but sad. Filled with warmth, it would have brought him comfort if he didn’t already know where this conversation was going.

“Dick, it’s me, Babs.” He didn’t respond and she sighed. “Come on. I didn’t sit in this chair for hours just to have you give me the silent treatment.” Nothing. “I just want to know how you’re doing.”

Finally he sighed and rolled back, the IV in his arm was uncomfortable anyway, laying on his side like that. “Your name is Barbara?” He spoke in a hoarse voice.

“Yeah, my name is Barbara. How are you feeling?”

“Like mush.” He paused. “I mean my brain feels like mush.” It took him much longer than he wanted to get the words out of his mouth.

“I bet. Probably got scrambled eggs for brains now, huh?” She smiled, hiding the pain in her eyes but Dick saw it anyway.

“I guess you could say that.” He paused. “So who are you supposed to be, Barbara?”

“Just a friend. Actually, we’re coworkers.” 

“Where do we work?” The sluggishness of the sentence made his own skin crawl.

“We work for the city.” She spoke with a great deal of thought. “It’s complicated. I think I should explain it to you another time.”

With that Dick’s eyebrows furrowed as far as they could manage in his current state. “Right. Another time.” He hated how much everyone else knew and how little he did. It was starting to get on his nerves. “Well, I don’t remember you so I guess you can leave.” It came out colder than intended, but he didn’t exactly dwell on that fact either.

Barbara’s eyes flashed with pain and she frowned. “I’ll leave you alone for now if you want, but I’m going to be back. I’m here for you, got it?” It sounded more like she was commanding him than anything else.

“Thanks but I have plenty of nurses to be here for me.” Colder than intended again.

She sighed and turned to leave not looking back when she said “Afternoon Dick.” Something in her voice wavered and as she walked out of the room, Dick watched her wipe a tear from her cheek. Guilt filled his chest as he looked down at the sheets. All he wanted was some peace and quiet. He never wanted to make her cry.

 

~~~

 

The next time Dick woke up, he was alone, his head feeling as empty as the room. Nothing made sense. All he could do was sit and study the walls. Moving sounded like to much effort to even try. Pulsing, his head couldn’t let him forget about the black hole in his brain. Then a nurse walked into the room, checking the stats on the monitor before anything else.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Grayson.” She had a friendly sarcasm about her voice. It was the type of tone that indicated tough love. He could tell she cared about what she was doing, the way she studied each symbol on the monitor. She cared but she also had thick skin. It wasn’t tough love, but genuine caring masked by a thick skinned sense of humor. “Mr. Grayson? You still there?” Suddenly she was standing in front of him, staring him in the eyes. When did she get there? He must have lost track of reality as his brain analyzed her entire personality from the five seconds he’d spent with her. 

“My...Head.” Mouth stiff, he struggled to get the words out. Why weren’t his lips moving like he wanted them to? They felt… numb? Cold? He couldn’t describe it. He just couldn’t tell them how to move fast enough and they responded even slower.

“I know. It probably feels like mashed potatoes up there, huh?” Her lips curled into a smile speckled with pity. He hated it, pity. But didn’t have the energy to protests and played along instead.

“Goulash.” He replied simply. “Feels like goulash” His lips still sluggish. She smiled with crinkles at the corners of her eyes and Dick’s face tried to mimic the gesture. But his eyes didn’t crinkle. His lips barely moved. In fact only a sliver of his pearly whites were showing while the rest of his facial features stayed more or less the same. Even the corners of his lips were having trouble pulling back to form a smile. The expression that ended up on his face looked more like he was in pain rather than a smile. He watched the nurse make mental notes with every movement he made. He didn’t like that either.

“Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?” She asked and Dick attempted to nod. It was less awkward than his smile but still stiff. 

“Answers. I- what happened?”

“You were shot in the head and underwent hours of surgery. You’re going to be fine but you need a lot of rest.”

His eyes dropped to the white sheets he was laying in. “Um… nurse?” 

“Yeah?”

“What’s my name?” He said still sluggish but with more embarrassment. 

“Richard Grayson. Your dad said you like to go by Dick though.” She flashed that warm smile again but Dick’s brows furrowed or rather, they attempted to furrow.

“Dad? My dad. Where is he? I want my dad.” The words were choppy, each syllable coming out with increasing intensity. 

“You’re dad should be here tomorrow morning. Probably the next time you wake up. Okay?” He didn’t like that tone of voice. It sounded like she was talking to a child, not a grown man. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her but she didn’t react. She kept smiling and asked once more. “Do you need anything else, Mr. Grayson?” and he shook his head.


	3. That's Not My Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After struggling to remember his own name something finally clicks.

Being conscious and unwilling to open his eyes, for some reason, felt like the best move to make, so when he did wake up, he didn’t open his eyes immediately. Instead he listened to his surroundings. People were in the room. Two men, one of which was British, and the nurse. The voice he didn’t recognize was deep and gravely, but a light tone played within it. That tone seemed fake. Why he thought this he had no idea. They were speaking low, probably trying not to wake him.

“He said he wants his dad.” The nurse’s whisper was hard to decipher. “I’m assuming that means you.”

At the mention of his father, Dick’s eyes opened to see the face of a thinking man as Bruce’s brain fired on all cylinders. “Maybe, but he usually just calls me Bruce.”

“Perhaps the boys condition has let him be more honest with your label, sir.” Alfred said.

“I don’t know.” Bruce’s voice trailed off at the end as everyone’s attention shifted to Dick. “Morning.” Bruce said, offering his version of a smile. 

It took Dick a moment to respond. He blinked a few times, glanced out the window, and then back to the man in front of him. “Who are you?” This time, his lips were having a much easier time moving. His face didn’t feel as stiff either. But the man across from him let disappointment flicker through his eyes, with what he perceived a hint of anger. 

“My name is Bruce Wayne.” The air was tense. “I’m-” before Bruce could finish Dick was interrupting him. His patients with the people he was suppose to know was growing thin. He wanted answers and he wasn’t about to wait for them.

“Where’s my dad? She said dad would be here today. You’re not him.” Now the atmosphere was suffocating as Dick drowned in looks of pity.

“Dick, your father died years ago. That’s when I took you in.” His words were chosen carefully, but that didn’t change the rage that flowed through Dick.

“Died?” He grit his teeth for a moment “Where are my parents? Who are you people?” His tone was edging on a scream, one step away from losing all control. 

Shifting with concern, the nurse looked at the other two men. “I think it’s best you both step outside.” She spoke quietly but with purpose.

“You heard her get out.” Dick barked, further from losing control but not by much. The two men stared for a moment and left without a word. He looked up at the nurse once they left. “I don’t know who those people are but I don’t want to see them again. Find my parents.” His voice dripped with intensity. 

The nurse scanned him for a moment, taking more mental notes. Damn it, he hated that. And then she spoke. “Mr. Grayson can you take a breath with me?”

“What?” His brows furrowed.

“Just breath in” She inhaled. “And out” she exhaled. Dick hesitated but did the same. They repeated the process three times before she spoke again. “I need you to understand something. Everything you’re feeling right now is real. You’re going through a lot. And you’ve had a lot of information to take in in a very short amount of time. Getting angry is normal.”

“Yeah, I know” Why was she telling him this? Of course it was normal to be angry. He was upset. A stranger claiming to be his father just told him his dad died. 

“One of the side effects of traumatic brain injury is mood swings. I just want you to keep that in mind the next time you get angry.” Dick frowned. He knew that made sense but he didn’t want to admit it. For some reason, he wanted to be angry. It felt better than the constant confusing haze he lived in. “Do you mind if we talk about your dad?”

“I guess not. I don’t… I don’t know much but I know that wasn’t him.” The anger had completely left this body now.

Nodding, the nurse’s casual tone came back. “What can you tell me about him?”

He thought for a long moment. “He… has dark hair. And he smiles a lot. And laughs. a-and...” Struggling to think of anything more, his voice trailed off.

“Do you remember his name? Maybe where he worked?”  
“He wore blue a lot.” silence. “I’m assuming his name was Grayson?” It was more a question than a statement. 

“That’s fantastic. Have you known that since you woke up the other day?”

Dick shook his head. “No, it just kinda came to me.”

“Great. That means you’re improving. We’ll take this one step at a time.” She turned to leave. “Do you need anything?”

“What’s my dad’s name?”

She opened the chart at the end of the bed and put it back. “John Grayson.”

“Find him.”

She nodded “Don’t get your hopes up. I’ll check it out for myself but you might want to entertain the idea that Mr. Wayne is telling the truth.” She knew he was, but she also knew there was no point in trying to convince Dick right now.

 

~~~

 

Dick was getting sick of always waking up with people in his room. Who would he have to shoe off today? The confident redhead? The man posing as his father? Maybe it’d be a friendly British man. Maybe he’d be forcibly introduced to someone new, like a long lost brother or his distant uncle. Maybe an old friend he wouldn’t recognize. All of them would be strangers to him. Waiting a moment to open his eyes, he listen to the room. Silence? Could he really be waking up to an empty room today? His eyes fluttered open and he sighed with disappointment. 

“Get out.” His eyes narrowed at the dark haired man in front of him. Who does this Bruce Wayne character think he is? Posing as his father.

“Please, give me a minute to explain. The nurse can verify anything you want checked out.”

Dick was silent for a moment, letting the man sweat, though Bruce didn’t really seem to be sweating. Finally he spoke. “I guess I have nothing better to do.”

“When you were nine years old you were a performer in Haley’s Circus. You and your parents were acrobats, specifically trapeze artists. Your father, John Grayson, and your mother, Mary Grayson, trained you practically from birth to be an acrobat. But when you were nine they fell from the trapeze in the middle of a netless act. I was there that nig-”

“Stop.” He glared at the man and then at the nurse. “Is this true?” The nurse only nodded in response as he shifted his gaze back to Bruce. “What. They just fell? Hands slipped? Didn’t catch each other?”

“The trapeze was sabotaged.” 

Dick grit his teeth. “Who.”

“His name is Tony Zucco. He’s behind bars.” 

The man in the hospital bed let his face twitch with anger as his heart rate heightened. “My parents were murdered?” Bruce nodded as the vague image of his parents ran through Dick’s head. He saw a dark haired man smiling with his arm around a thin faceless woman. They were murdered. “So who the hell are you?”

“I took you in after the incident, Dick.”

“Stop. Stop. Stop calling me that. You keep- you keep saying that name like it means something. Like you know me. I don’t even know me!”

Red abruptly bled into Dick’s vision as he glared at the man in front of him. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was so furious with Bruce. The man had done nothing wrong, but still, his blood boiled. Bruce opened his mouth to speak but Dick lept from the bed, attempting to assault the man in front of him, but failed, falling to the ground. His arms and legs weren’t taking commands from his head. He couldn’t get up. Couldn’t scramble to his feet. Couldn’t recover. He was trapped lying on the ground as his body ached -- head exploding with pain. Nothing was moving right. Not his fingers. Not his hands. Not his toes or feet or legs. Nothing. He just writhed in sharp, agonizing movements. Bruce kneelled to help the man up with the nurse. As soon as Dick was situated back in bed, fuming in silence, the nurse turned to Bruce.

“You need to step out into the hall. I’ll be right there.” And he did so. While fixing the IV Dick had torn from his arm, she spoke. “Remember the breathing exercise we did yesterday?”

He grit his teeth. “He has no right to come in here and-”

“Mr. Grayson, he’s telling the truth. That man adopted you after your parents were murdered. He knows you. I checked it out myself. Breath with me.”

He would’ve crossed his arms if he had enough control. “Fine.” Closing his eyes he breathed for a minute.

“Good. I’m going to step out and speak to Mr.Wayne. Are you going to be okay?” 

“I’ll be fine” He sounded defeated.

Nodding, she left the room and pulled Bruce away from the door so Dick couldn’t hear. She studied Bruce for a moment, getting a sense of him after his son attempted to assault him. 

“Mr. Wayne, are you alright?” She knew Dick hadn’t touched him. After all, he only had enough control and energy to force his body out of bed, nothing more. The question was more meant for his mental state. Being attacked by your son wasn’t exactly comforting.

“I’m fine.” He stared at the door to Dicks room. “I- is he?” His gaze turned back to the nurse. “Dick wouldn’t do that.” The nurse shook her head.

“Mr. Wayne, Dick is going to be different. I need you and everyone to understand that.”

“I know but that wasn’t just different. That wasn’t Dick.”

“Violent outbursts are normal at this point. The damage he took to his frontal lobe affects the way he makes decisions. Rational thought and good decision making isn’t going to come easy to him anymore.”

Bruce took a deep breath. “But Dick isn’t an angry person. I know he can have a temper sometime but he can control it and-”

“Mr. Wayne, Dick isn’t the same. People who take damage to the frontal lobe can have complete personality changes. Who ever Dick was before the incident... You need to leave behind the expectation of that behavior and just be happy he’s alive. I’m not saying your son is gone forever but it’s still the e-”

“Early stages of recovery, I know.” Bruce interrupted. “Sorry, I’ve heard that one a lot. How much longer will he be in the early stages? He looked better today.” A light shined in the back of Bruce’s gloom ridden eyes because he had looked better that day. In fact, it was the best he looked in weeks, although it’s not hard to look better than a coma.

“He’s improving--slowly.” The nurse replied “He remembers his dad, not much, but it’s still a good sign. His brain is fixing the damaged connections in the motor cortex as well. I’m not sure if you noticed but he had an easier time speaking today. And making facial expression. He even had enough control to jump out of bed. That might not be a positive for the mood swings but-- physical recover looks good.” She gave Bruce a soft smile. “It must be hard for you to realize but he’s doing much better than we anticipated. We might even start him on more serious physical therapies soon.”

Bruce nodded but didn’t return the smile. When the silence dragged on for a few moments, the nurse looked ready to walk back into Dicks room. Before she could make a move Bruce spoke up again. “Have um… have you dealt with other traumatic brain injuries before?”

She nodded “A couple that survived but they aren’t incredibly common and especially not ones like this.”

“What happened to them?” Bruce’s eyes were pleading for some confirmation that Dick will be okay, begging for any sense of hope that he could return to normal but his face remained neutral.

“The most successful case I’ve had now lives with his parents. He needs a full time caregiver and will never be able to live on his own.” She paused, knowing that wasn’t the truth Bruce wanted to hear. “But he’s happy. He has friends. He goes to church and to concerts and th park and cafe’s. He can’t walk or think as clearly but he’s happy now.” The hope in Bruce’s eyes faded. “Dick will never be the same. He will never be able to live how he used to. After something like this,” her hands guestered to the room. “we’re already lucky with the results we’re getting, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still live a full life. He’s just going to have to adjust.”

“Thank you.” Silence. “I should probably be on my way. I’m sure he won’t want to see me again today.”

The nurse nodded. “Please don’t let today discourage you. It was rough but there are going to be a lot of rough days ahead and he’s going to need you through every single one.” 

With that Bruce gave her one final nod and walked down the hall as she slipped back into the room. “Mr. Grayson how are we feeling?” That soft, personable smile was back on her face. 

“I told you I’m fine.” His tone started with frustration but faded into defeat. Neither spoke for a few seconds. “When will I be able to walk again?”

“Hopefully soon. Keep working on those arms and hands and we’ll get you started on the legs. Got to be able to crawl before you can walk.”

He sighed. “I guess that makes sense.”

 

~~~

 

Damian made his way down the long stone steps that lead to the cave. His sluggish pace was a product of the grim tone that had hung over the Wayne Manor since the incident. Some days were better than others but today was bad. The mansion echoed with silence as did the secret lair below it. Nobody had the spirit to make any noise when they knew who was laying in a hospital bed across town, just trying to remember his own name. In fact, on days like today, they’d be lucky if anyone acknowledged they’re presence with anything more than a grunt in the place of “good morning.” 

So, Damian slowly walked down the steps, planning on doing some work to get his mind off things. But when he reached the bottom of the stairs he saw Bruce hunched over in his chair. Only the dim, blue glow from the enormous computer screen allowed him to see that Bruce was wearing most of his uniform. The cape was draped around his shoulders but the utility belt was missing and no cowl was covering his eyes. Instead his hands hid his eyes, elbows on his knees. He was still as Damian took a few steps closer.

“Father?” He asked, closer now. When there was no response, he took a few more steps. “Father?” he repeated with a dash of worry in his voice.”Father, is everything alright?”

They were only a few feet apart when Bruce lifted his head, eyes barely able to meet Damians. This is when Damian realized a small puddle on the floor, directly beneath Bruce’s head. His eyes were tinged pink, the red veins more prevalent than ever. And they were puffy because Bruce had been silently sobbing for who knows how long. Damian’s own eyes threatened to well at the sight of his father, normally so solid, crumbling. The older man’s eyes were filled with absolute despair when he broke the silence, his voice hoarse.

“Of course not.” The words were barely audible as his eyes drifted entirely to the ground.

Damian stared in silence for a moment. “I know.” He finally replied, defeated. “Father?” His own voice was threatening to crack.

“Yes?” The pauses were deafening but neither knew how to fill the space.

“I don’t think…. Grayson would want us to cry.” each word threatened to make his eyes overflow with tears.

“Don’t matter” He was exhausted. “Dick isn’t here.”

Tears spilled onto Damian’s lashes and dripped onto the floor. “Are we ever going to get him back?” Now their eyes were locked, neither ashamed of their wet cheeks.

“I wish I could tell you. But I don’t know.”

Damian lunged forward, planting himself in his father chest. Bruce wrapped his arms around him, cradling his head as Damian sobbed into Bruce’s shoulder. No words would calm them so none were said. They sobbed in silence until Damian, who had ended up in his father's lap, fell asleep against his chest.

 

~~~

 

Now, Dick was in a better mood. Some may even dare to say we was feeling optimistic, that was until they brought in his food. Barbara was sitting in a chair pulled closer to the bed, typing up a storm. Dick sat in his hospital bed, like usual, with a tray hovering above his lap. He pulled it closer, the arm attaching it to the bed moving with it. A turkey sandwich sat in front of him, taunting him.

“Well don’t just stare at it.” Barbara commented, not even peering over her screen.

Dick made a face that she pretended not to see. Was it weird talking to an absolute stranger like this? Sure, but everyone was an absolute stranger. The only people he remember were his parents and he really only had a vague image of them in his mind, only fragments of a uncontextualized moment. He still couldn’t remember his mother’s face.

Turning his attention back to the sandwich he lifted his hands to the tray. He took a deep breath, giving himself a mental motivational speech.  _ I can do this. It’s just lunch. _ But when his he told his fingers to wrap around the sandwich, they didn’t. Instead a few fingers twitched. He huffed.  _ Let’s try this again. _ He moved his hands back toward the sandwich and told his fingers to hold it again. Nada. His hands just couldn’t do it. They weren’t responding to his brain quick enough to move. By this point Barbara was watching silently but Dick tried to ignore her. He tried again. And again. And again. And again. Until in one heavy motion his hand swiped the tray onto the floor.

“Damn it!” He yelled, letting his hands fall to the sheets. 

Barbara jumped, not expecting the sudden outburst. “Dick-”

“Don’t. I just- All I wanted to do was eat. I can’t even do that…”

She put her laptop aside and got up. “The doctors said it would take time.” She walked over to retrieve the sandwich.

“Well I’ve put in time and it’s not working.”

“You just need to put in more time then.” She plopped the tray in front of him again and held out her arm “Grab my wrist.”

“What the hell? No.”

“Just try and grab my wrist.”  
“Bu-” Dick began to protest but Barbara cut him off.

“Just do it, loser. Try and grab my wrist.”

He glared for a moment but then complied. He lifted his arm and brought his hand to her wrist. Slowly, he placed his hand on top and lightly curled his fingers around it. “There. You happy?”

“No. Now squeeze.”

“What?”

“I said squeeze, Grayson. Show me you have control.”

“I don’t have con-”

“Yes, you do.” Her tone was stern--caring, but stern.

“I told you I can’t.”

“The Dick Grayson I know would never just accept defeat. He’d keep pushing.”

“Well maybe I’m not the Dick Grayson you know!” His voice exploded in abrupt resentment. 

“Dick.” The woman’s face had flashed with fear momentarily but it was almost unnoticeable. “Let go.” Her voice was smooth as glass. “

Dick glared for a second but upon realizing how hard he was holding her wrist, he let go. A voice in his head told him to apologize. “That’s what you get for--” he sighed midway through the sentence and then spoke low and quiet. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine” Barbara smiled. “You’re like family.” She paused “To everyone who’s visited and some who haven’t, you’re like family and we’ll always be here for you.”

Dick’s eyes hit the sheets. “I can’t say the same.” He glanced up to gauge her reaction. “You all seem nice, but I don’t know any of you. You’re not family” The last sentence held a grim tone that sent a chill down Barbara’s spine.

“Well we’re here whether you accept it or not.” Anger slithered onto her tongue as she spoke. She attempted to swallow it back down but rage still ended up speckled through the sentence.

Dick picked up on this tone immediately and it sparked his own fury. “Maybe you should leave.” The voice that had told him to apologize was now telling him to bite his tongue, but he didn’t. This time he ignored the voice because anger sounded better than loneliness. “I don’t really need any of you here.”

Barbara furrowed her brow. “Amnesia’s made you a real dick, Grayson.” She was packing up her laptop. “Call if you need me.”

“Probably not.” The little voice in his head was screaming at him not to say that, but it was too late. The words were already out. He wanted to yell. He wanted to scream but he couldn’t find an opening. 

“I’ll see you later.” Barbara mumbled, obviously holding the urge to be rude back. She could tell he was looking for a fight and she wasn’t about to give it to him.

Dick didn’t respond. He watched her leave without another word and felt all the pent up rage leave his body. Now, the little voice in his head was back in control. Now, he felt guilty for not listening to it. Now, he was lonely again.

 

~~~

 

The only light spilling into the room was from under the door and the moon high in the evening sky. Actually, it was somewhere around three in the morning. Planes disguised as shooting stars blinked as they crossed the sky. The only thing audible was Dick’s increasingly erratic breathing. What ever he was dreaming about hadn’t quite reached nightmare territory but it was, at the very least, unpleasant. His eyes shot open. Why was he scared, right now? Sweating, he sat up in bed as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. When they did, he saw a man sitting in the far end of the room. His legs were crossed and he was reading a relatively thick book. For a moment, Dick believed he was looking at a punk rock ghost. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?” The man put a bookmark in between the pages and stood, placing the book on a table. He took a step forward without speaking. As the moon light brushed over his face, Dick could see details. The man in front of him had dark hair and greens eyes. A leather jacket wrapped his admittedly intimidating figure.

“I just need to ask you a question” He finally spoke up. This one was harder to read. Dick could read the Brit and the Nurse like books. Even the redhead was easy to read but there was something about this one… as if he knew how to hide from Dick’s observant eyes. 

“Fine, but just the one. Then I’m going back to sleep.” He was only half joking but the man seemed to pick this up.

“Do you recognize me?” He took another step forward, finally fully illuminating his face in the moonlight. Dick sighed.

“Not even a little. Get out.”

“No problem.” The man said. “I won’t bother you again.” with one last stare, he grabbed the book and walked out of the room. Dick kind of liked that one, although mostly because he wasn’t forcing his way into Dick’s mind.


End file.
